


Night Vision Binoculars

by and_awful



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, M/M, stalker!karkat vantas, where they're real OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:53:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/and_awful/pseuds/and_awful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat stalks John (who is currently dating Dave) and that's basically it.  Based off a post which was based off a song.  Maybe more to it, depends if I can be bothered. [It's a really good song, so if anything just click the link to the song and enjoy that].</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Vision Binoculars

**Author's Note:**

> post: http://papabrostrider.tumblr.com/post/51486161472
> 
> song: Night Vision Binoculars by Passenger
> 
> They're really OOC because I wrote them to how the song is, and to me the guy in the song doesn't sound too confident, so Karkat isn't confident and he thinks in short sentences.
> 
> It may also stop abruptly because I was going kidnappy with it and I didn't want to stray from the song, whoops.

You see him walking to and from work every day.  You see him, but he doesn’t see you.  You see him sleepily leave the front door of his apartment building across from yours.  You see him look your way as you leave your own building but not pay any attention to you.  You see him walk down the street and enter the locally owned coffee shop to help him wake up.  You watch him through the shop’s window as you walk past and wish you could be the one to kiss him awake every morning.  You keep going around the block to make your way to your own work, which is in the opposite direction to the one you just came.

Your work hours are shorter than his so you can peer out your window five storeys up and watch him as he walks back up the street.  He walks with a hypnotising bounce that makes you bite your lip and press into the glass to feel closer.  He takes his delicate finger up to the intercom button to ask his douche bag boyfriend to let him in.  Sometimes you wish he won’t be there to let your love in so you can go downstairs and be his saviour.  That hasn’t happened yet, but when it does you’ll be ready.

You wait roughly five minutes in your dark apartment for him to enter his own and walk past the windows immediately across from yours, which allows you to view into his kitchen and his lounge.  He drops his man’s purse by the side of the couch and collapses onto his boyfriend’s lap, who has spent most of his evening watching television.  You’d never watch television if you were your love’s boyfriend.  You’d cook him dinner every night and greet him at the door and massage his feet if he needed it.  You’d be a much better boyfriend.

They kiss a lot, he and his boyfriend.  Sometimes you look away and sometimes you pretend it’s you he’s kissing.  Since you’re already in the middle of pretending you pretend your hand touching yourself is his hand.  It really helps.  Sometimes late at night while you’re looking at them through your night vision binoculars they start having sex on the couch.  They think the cover of darkness is a good enough substitute to drawing the curtains shut.  This either makes a really really good end to your day or a really really bad end.  Tonight they don’t have sex, at least not so you can see.

In the morning while you’re too absorbed in his beauty you accidentally follow him into the coffee shop.  You pretend you’ve ordered the same coffee as he does so maybe you can reach for the cup at the same time he does, but he’s too swift.  Instead you follow him to the small individual packages of milk.  As he reaches down to grab one you reach out too and feel his soft fingertip graze your hand followed by a rough knuckle and more soft skin.  It feels even more exquisite as he pulls away with a small portion of milk in his hand and he still doesn’t acknowledge your existence. 

The heat and electricity from his touch is in your mind all day.  You replay the moment over and over and it never ceases to be magnificent because he will never cease to be anything but everything you’ve ever wanted.  You walk home with a grin on your face at the vivid, tingly memory of his touch but you desperately wish you were walking home with him.

He greets his boyfriend sitting on the couch with a playful hand through his hair and a kiss to his cheek.  He seems to really enjoy his hair being played with because your love continues as they watch television.  You run your hand through your own hair but it’s not the same.  It will never be the same until it’s actually him doing it.  You shout out a string of groans and hit your window in frustration.  He’s only doing it to him because he can’t do it to you, you tell yourself.

Still very jealous of your love’s douche bag boyfriend the next day you walk straight to work without even glancing towards the front door of his apartment building.  You regret it almost immediately and decide you’ll make up for it after work.  You spend two hours sitting in front of his building’s intercoms before he walks up, done with his own day of work.  He still doesn’t notice you as he presses the button to his apartment.

“Hey baby,” he says into the machine with a voice more rough than you’d imagined, but more perfect as well.  “I’ll be up in a minute.”

He turns towards the door and finally notices you.  He grins down at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes.  You would do anything to see his eyes crumple in a smile.  Nonetheless you grin back, but a for real grin because he’s for real _finally_ paying attention to you.

“Could you—”

“Hi,” you say a little too enthusiastically and stand up in front of the door.

“Hi,” he says noticeably less enthusiastically.  “Could you move over for me?”

“Of course,” you smile.  “I’ll— anything, anything for you.”

You sidestep around him and take in a deep breath to capture his cologne as you purposefully brush into him more than you have to.  He smells musky.  You were expecting him to smell sweet but now you think this is much more fitting.  As he enters the apartment building you slip in after him and follow him into the lift.  You stand in the back and he stands in the front.  He even asks you what floor you need to be on, to which you answer five.  You beg in your mind for it to stop so you can spend a night with him but of course it doesn’t.  You continue to follow him as he walks to his apartment but he doesn’t go there.  He stops much too early and says it’s his apartment, then says a brief farewell.  You’re scaring him.  You’re scaring your love to the point where he’s politely trying to tell you to fuck off.

“I’m—”

“Goodbye,” he says again.  “It was nice to meet you, sir.”

“Karkat,” you say, thankful for a train of thought being handed to you.  “My name’s Karkat.”  You hold your hand out and he actually grabs it.  He’s holding your hand and it’s tight and firm and you’re beginning to breathe too fast.

“Are you alright, Karkat?” he asks.  Your name in his mouth sends shivers down your spine and sends your blood down south.  You’ve never heard your name so angelic before.  “Are you locked out or something?”

“Yes,” you answer, still shaking his hand.  “I’m locked out and I need your help.  I can just pick my lock with something sharp if you have it.”

“I might, but I need my hand.”  He laughs and you almost pass out.  It sounds the way freshly cut grass smells and you love freshly cut grass.

You reluctantly let go of his hand and he begins searching in his bag.  He hands you a pen and asks if it will work.  You say yes but when he tells you you don’t have to return it you change your mind and ask for something else.  He searches and searches but comes up empty so you pretend like you can’t accept his pen and you want to return it.  He says you can just slip it under the door when you’re done and that makes your stomach sink.  Why doesn’t he want you to know where he lives?  It’s not like you don’t already know.

He reminds you again to leave by saying goodbye but as he does his douche bag peeks out of his actual apartment and calls out to him.  His name is John.  He acts like he didn’t notice it wasn’t his apartment and invites you into his real apartment to help find something for you to pick your lock.  When John walks up to his douche bag named Dave they kiss.  Inside he gives you a screwdriver and says you’ve got to go now because they’ve got a date.  Before you leave through the door, though, he asks for your number so he can call you to get it back.  You almost forget what it is out of sheer excitement.

You spend the next two days staring at your phone intensely waiting for his call.  In the meantime you masturbate with the handle of the screwdriver because it’s the closest you have to his hand.  He may have touched this handle a million times and now it’s touching the inside of you.  You like having a name to shout out now too, along with second-hand him exploring your body.  As you’re almost at your climax your phone rings.  You scramble to answer it and keep playing with yourself as he says your name.

“Hi, John,” you breathe.

“I hope the screwdriver did the trick,” he says enthusiastically, and if only he knew how well it was doing the trick for you.  “Can you bring it over now?  We sort of need it.”

“We’ll get a new one,” Dave says in the background.  “Stop talking to that freak.”

“Afterwards we can go get lunch if you don—”

“I’m free for lunch,” you interrupt.

“Alright,” John laughs.  “Come over then, Karkat, and we’ll go out.”

“Actually I’m already out,” you lie.  “Meet me outside of our building.”

You quickly finish your task at hand, wash the screwdriver off, and walk over to his building.  Luckily you get there before him.  When he sees you he smiles a smile that reaches his eyes and melts your insides.  Dave already ate, he lies.  You’re really thankful you came off as a freak to him, because now you have your love all to yourself and you don’t plan on returning him.


End file.
